Will Adams - The Alexander Cipher

"When can we start?" asked Elena.

"When you would like?"

"Tonight."

"Tonight!" laughed Aly. "Do you never relax?"

"We only have two weeks."

"Not tonight, I'm afraid," said Aly. "I have plans. But I'm an early riser. You're welcome here at any time from seven."

"Thank you."

Rick and Knox circled downwind so that the German shepherd wouldn't catch their scent. It was another ninety minutes before the guards set off on their rounds once more. The moment they were gone, Rick hurried into the clearing and over to the smaller building. He examined its two hefty padlocks, produced a hooked length of thick steel wire from his pocket, then proceeded swiftly to unlock them both.

"Where in hell did you learn that?" murmured Knox.

"Australian Special Forces, mate," grinned Rick, pocketing the padlocks and ushering him inside. "They don't teach knitting." There was a deep hole in the floor, a wooden ladder tied to one wall. "It's sixteen minutes to the other site," said Rick. "I timed it. Sixteen more back makes thirty-two. We need to be out of here in twenty-five tops. Okay?"

"We'd better hurry," agreed Knox, adrenaline pumping as he led the way down. The ladder creaked but held, and he was soon crunching on stone chips. Rick joined him a moment later. They walked side by side down the narrow corridor, Rick picking out a wall painting with his flashlight. "Jesus!" he muttered. "I thought Wolf-man was out of the Marvel comics."

"Not Wolf-man," corrected Knox. "Wolf god. Wepwawet."

Rick was looking at him strangely. "What's the matter?" he asked. "You seen a ghost?"

"Not exactly."

"Then what? Have you worked out where we are or something?"

"I think so. Yes."

"Come on, then, mate. Spill."

Knox frowned. "What do you know about the Rosetta Stone?" he asked.

Boss! Boss!"

Nessim glowered at Ratib. Since they offered their reward, their phones had been ringing constantly. Knox's Jeep had been spotted everywhere from Marsa Matruh down to Aswan, as had Knox himself. Nessim was longing for a result, if only so they could call off this damned search and get some peace. But the more time that went by, the lower his hopes fell. "Yes?" he asked.

"It's Abdullah, boss," said Ratib. "You know, from Tanta. Says one of his crew has found the Jeep."

"Where?"

Ratib shook his head. "Kid won't say until he's got his money. And he wants more. Kid's demanding a thousand dollars just for himself. And Abdullah wants the same."

Nessim scowled. The money itself didn't bother him; it was Hassan's, after all. But being held to ransom did. Yet, if this was for real… He checked his money belt to see how much he had on him. "Tell him we want proof," he said. "Tell him to send photographs. If it is, they can each have seven fifty."

Ratib shook his head. "The kid refuses to go back," he said. "Reckons Abdullah will have him followed, and then he won't get anything."

Nessim barked out a laugh. He had met Abdullah twice himself, and both times he instinctively checked his pockets afterward to make sure he still had his wallet. "Ask him to describe exactly what he saw."

Ratib nodded and complied. "He says it was covered with a green tarpaulin," he reported back. "He says he took a peek inside. He says he saw a box of CDs and books."

Nessim grabbed the phone from Ratib. "What books?" he demanded.

"I don't know," answered the kid. He sounded terrified, way out of his depth. "They were in foreigner writing."

A flashback of Knox's hotel room and the archaeology books he had taken away. "Did they have pictures?"

"Yes."

"What kind?"

"Ruins," said the kid. "You know. And those people who dig in the desert."

Nessim clenched his fist. "You stay exactly where you are," he told him. "We're on our way."

"The Rosetta Stone?" frowned Rick, snapping a couple of shots of the painting with his digital camera before moving on. "I know what you'd expect me to know. Why?"

"And that is?"

Rick shrugged. "It's a large chunk of a monumental stela. Black basalt, something like that."

"Quartz-bearing rock," corrected Knox. "It should actually be sparkling gray with a pink vein. The black comes from too much wax and London dirt."

"It's inscribed in three languages," said Rick. "Hieroglyphics, Demotic, and Greek. And it was found in Rosetta by Napoleon's men. Seventeen ninety nine, wasn't it?"

"Yes."

They reached a second painting, similar to the first. Rick took two shots; the flash was blinding in the darkness. "They realized it might hold the key to deciphering hieroglyphics, so they hunted for other fragments. Worth their weight in diamonds, as someone put it." He squinted at Knox. "Is that what we're after? The lost pieces of the Rosetta Stone?"

"No."

"They didn't find anything; but then the stone wasn't from Rosetta originally; it was only transported there as building material." As they walked, the walls turned black with char; great scars scored the baked clay. "One hell of a fire," muttered Rick as he photographed.

"You were telling me about the Rosetta Stone."

"Yes. Copies were made, and there was a race to decipher it. Jean-Francois Champollion made the final breakthrough. He announced his results sometime in the 1820s."

"Eighteen twenty-two. Friday, September 27, to be exact. Considered by many to be the birth date of modern Egyptology."

Rick shrugged. "That's pretty much it."

"Not bad," said Knox. "But you know what you haven't mentioned yet?"

"What?"

"The inscription itself. What it says."

Rick laughed ruefully. "You're right. How about that?"

"You're not alone. This great monument, this iconic image, and hardly anyone knows what it says."

"So what does it say?"

Knox shone his flashlight ahead. The white marble of a portal glowed pale, and on either side lay ghostly wolves. "It's known as the Memphis Decree," he said as they pressed forward. "Written to commemorate Ptolemy Five's accession in one nine six BC. The Golden Age of the Ptolemies had been well and truly over by then, of course, thanks to Ptolemy Four."

"The party animal," nodded Rick, crouching to photograph the wolves.

"Exactly. The Seleucid king Antiochus Three thought he was soft and ripe for plucking. He seized Tyre, Ptolemais, and much of the Egyptian fleet."

"Spare me the detail," said Rick. "We're on the clock, remember."

"Okay," said Knox as they moved on. "There was a great battle at Raphia. The Egyptians won, and peace was restored to the land. It should have been good news."

"But?"

"Taxes were already punitive, but Ptolemy had to raise them even higher to finance his war and then the victory celebrations. People left their farms and homes because they couldn't afford to pay. Discord spread. There were massive uprisings across Egypt. Ptolemy Four was assassinated, and his successor, Ptolemy Five Epiphanes, was still only a child. When a group of rebels attacked military posts and temples in the Nile Delta, Epiphanes' men went after them. The rebels took refuge in a citadel."

"That's right," said Rick, snapping his fingers. "They thought they'd be safe. They were wrong."

"They were very wrong," agreed Knox as they walked down two steps to a second doorway. "According to the Rosetta Stone, Epiphanes' men stormed it and put them all to the sword."

"Charming."

"You know where it all happened? A place called Lycopolis, in the Busirite administrative district."

"The Busirite administrative district? Wasn't that pretty much where we are now?"

"Exactly," nodded Knox as they reached the portal. "Welcome to the citadel of ancient Lycopolis."

Rick went through first, his flashlight held out ahead. "Oh, Jesus!" he muttered when he saw what was inside. And he turned and looked away, as though about to be sick.